


The Memories of a Man Called Bucky Barnes

by justanotherminordetail



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash, hydra scum, i guess, let's journey through bucky's memories, should be fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherminordetail/pseuds/justanotherminordetail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hydra sends the Winter Soldier into cryostasis before they wipe his mind. They think it's kinder. The Winter Soldier dreams of Bucky's memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreaming of Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> Um, well, I'm not really sure where this is gonna go. But, I've tagged it according to how it is at the moment.
> 
> Alright, so, here's my first fanfic. Hope you enjoy it.

They’ve let you free for too long. You’ve begun to fight their programming, to question their orders and wonder at your history.

So they decide to freeze you again.

You enter the deep sleep of cryostasis slowly, fighting against the cold and the way you can feel your body and mind slowing. You fight with every bit of strength you have, even as it slowly withers away to nothing.

You watch your reflection so you can see the ice slowly climbing your body. You watch so you can see as it overtakes you, despite how hard you’re fighting it.

And the blessed darkness comes.

***  
It’s only darkness in the beginning, though.

You can see light coming from your right. It’s a soft, white light, almost comforting in how different it is from the harsh lighting in that damned room with that damned chair.

But you don’t want to think about the chair.

So, you start walking towards the light.

Faster.

Faster.

Faster.

Til you’re practically sprinting to get away from the darkness and the memories of the things they’ve put you through.

And suddenly you’re inside the light. It’s warm and soft and comforting in all the ways everything else about your existence is not. And now you can truly rest.

***  
You awaken to the sound of screams.

And so your first instinct is to reach for a knife.

But, even as you go for a knife, you realize that these screams are different from the many that you’ve encountered on your missions. They have a general sense of lightness to them that you cannot understand.

How can screams seem light and be without fear?

You open your eyes to bright sunshine and blue skies.

There are people walking around where you lie upon the ground. You look at every person who walks near you as you quickly get to your feet to look around to determine a location.

But something golden catches your eye.

It’s the blond hair of a young, sickly looking boy. He appears too thin, and his obviously second-hand clothes look as if they may fall off him.

But, as he walks closer to you, you can see the lightness that seems to be radiating off of him.

A few feet away from you, he looks up and grins.

“C’mon, Buck,” he says, “You promised we’d get to play one of the games, today.”


	2. The Fight at Coney Island

“Yeah, Stevie,” you find yourself replying to him, “I did say that, didn’t I?”

As you grin back at him, he spins around quickly and starts heading towards a huddle of small shanties from which vendors yell at tourists to play some games. You stand there and watch him walk away for a few seconds, until he turns his head slightly, apparently to say something to you, only find that you’re not anywhere near him.

He spins around to find you, clearly thinking that you’ve lost him in the crowd. However, because of how short he is, he has to weave and jump around between people to see you. “Buck, c’mon already. I’m not gettin’ any younger!” he yells to you when he can finally see you again, gesturing expansively.

You find yourself jogging over to him.

This time, he makes sure that you’re directly beside him before he starts walking towards the games again. You fall into an easy pace beside him, despite your internal struggle to regain control over your body.

Regardless of your sheer confusion over the situation, there is some part of you that is worrying about his breathing. 

Did he jump around too much? He’s not gonna start breathing too hard, is he? He’d better not have an asthma attack here, crowds only make ‘em worse.

Even as that small part keeps up its litany of worries for the boy beside you, your body suddenly swings your left arm around his shoulders, and you start laughing at some joke he must have just made.

“Boy, Stevie, that would be one helluva sight,” you chuckle as the two of you reach the edge of the circle of vendors.

“Anyways, which game did ya feel like playin’ today?” you ask the boy.

He smiles widely up at you and starts heading towards one of the vendors. The man’s got a bucket of balls in front of him, and there’re pyramids of old milk glasses set up on tables behind him. He’s also got one of the greasiest smiles you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You know what’s going to happen here.

The boy, no, Steve, will lose the game. He’ll accuse the man of cheating, because he very clearly threw the last ball straight at that top bottle, and it didn’t waver in the slightest. The man will only smile wider.

And Steve will somehow manage to insult him so badly that the vendor will actually hop over his barrier and punch Steve right in the nose. This will make you so angry that you will actually beat the man down until he is unconscious and Steve is begging you to stop. And the two of you will run away because you can hear someone calling for the police.

Today is the day that the boy whose body you are wearing learns from his best friend that sometimes people think that physically hurting another person will solve all of their problems and take away the hurt they feel from hearing Steve’s brutal honesty.

This entire scene flashes before your eyes before Steve even gets halfway to the vendor.

You reach your hand towards him, the first movement you have made of your own accord since you woke to blue skies and yell out, “Hey, Stevie!”

But, when Steve turns toward you, with a questioning look and a grin still on his face, everything fades to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to go with showing Bucky's memories from which he "learned" something from Steve. In this particular chapter, Buck learns that, yeah, people can suck, but sometimes it's because they're a little broken. (In my head, this is the reason that Steve gets into so many fights. He says just the right thing to get the bullies all mean and defensive.)
> 
> So, yeah, if you read this and like it, could you maybe send me a comment letting me know what you want to see Bucky remembering next? 'Cause I've got a few ideas flitting about in my head, but nothing solid and some feedback would be great.
> 
> Also, I've got a tumblr! (justanotherminordetail.tumblr.com) It's not currently linked to my AO3 account, but it is full of Captain America love, along with a few other fandoms. You don't have to follow or anything, but I would love love LOVE getting some messages with maybe some tips for writing you might have or ideas for stories.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Posing for a Portrait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's beautiful, Buck.

You open your eyes to shoddy lighting and a cold draft.

You’re lying in a bed with a mattress that feels more like a brick, with the scratchy sheets wrapped tightly around you as if they were a cocoon.

You try to move your head to look around, but, once again, you find that your body is not actually yours to control. Which means that when your body gets up and begins to get dressed, there’s not much you can do but try to take in as much information as possible.

It’s a small bedroom. Two twin sized mattresses on rotting frames against the wall opposite the door. A nightstand between them nothing but a pencil and journal on it. A dresser, which you’re currently searching through, that looks as if it should have been thrown out years ago on the next wall. Looking up at the cracked mirror, you see a lone chair on the fourth wall of the room.

All in all, a fairly stark bedroom.

Once you’re dressed, you walk out the door and directly into a sitting room.

You immediately find yourself looking at the blond boy. Steve.

He still looks sickly, but he’s obviously much older. If you had to guess (which is hard because of how damned small he is even if his face has become much less soft) you would say he is now anywhere between seventeen and twenty years old, compared to the prepubescent version you previously met.

He’s sitting on the couch, pencil in hand and sketchbook in lab.

“Hey, Buck, ‘bout time you were up,” Steve says.

“Shut it, punk,” you reply, stretching your arms high above your head. “I get to sleep late on my day off.”

“Yeah, whatever, jerk,” Steve retorts, still sitting on the couch while you turn into the kitchen. “Hey, look, I’ve got this project for class due soon, and, well…” he trails off.

You had just sat down at the kitchen table, but now you look over your shoulder to look at him, “Well, what?”

He blushes and looks down at his shoes. “… ah nee du to si df ormee…” he mumbles.

“Wait, what?”

He looks back up at you, and seems to try to puff himself up. Shoulders back, hands clenched together, and “Would you sit for me, Buck?” he asks you, his big blue eyes all shiny and pleading.

Your body turns the chair around so you can talk to him, face-to-face.

“You want me to sit for you?” you ask him, incredulous.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I could probably draw you from memory by now, but I need a kinda specific pose, so…” he tells you.

“Steve, I know you use me as reference for warming up and practice, but I don’t think a portrait of me is gonna cut it for your class,” you reply, standing up and running a hand through your hair. “Look, why don’t we head outside and get a dame to sit for ya,” you say, heading back to your room. “I’ll just go get my shoes and-“

“Buck, no,” Steve interrupts, standing up. “I only want you to sit for me,” he admits quickly.

This kid really loves Bucky, you think.

And, of course, you’ll sit for him. The two of you will chat while Steve draws you for class. And, when Steve’s done, he’ll show you the portrait he made.

The dark charcoal against the paper will make your features stand out, and you'll feel as if you're looking at a masterpiece.

Beautiful, you’ll think. No way that’s me, you’ll tell Steve. And Steve will grin and nod, knew you would say that, he’ll respond.

Everybody’s beautiful, Buck, Steve’ll say. Some more so than others, true, he’ll admit slyly, side-eyeing you. But every single human being is beautiful, simply because they’re ALIVE, Buck.

Sometimes, that beauty is just hidden on the inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: Steve believes that everyone is beautiful, simply because they are alive. There's a text post on tumblr that kinda inspired this headcanon. Maybe you've seen it?
> 
> Another headcanon: Pre-serum Steve only draws in charcoal or pencil since he's colorblind. He doesn't want to ruin the aesthetic with a bunch of random colors where they shouldn't be since he can't see them right. So, I'm not sure what they had back then, but definitely no paints or oils for Stevie.
> 
> So, Steve teaches Bucky that everyone is beautiful, starting with Bucky himself. Of course, I don't think Steve would think that cruel bullies are beautiful, but everyone else, hells yeah Steve would think that.
> 
> Anyways, my tumblr is justanotherminordetail, come message me? Please? I'll love you forever and ever.
> 
> And, if you have a particular lesson you want Bucky to learn from Steve or have something to critique me on, leave a comment!


End file.
